


A Good Workout

by alifeasvivid



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, M/M, UST, seriously he's so dehydrated, thirsty Arthur
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-09-27 01:20:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20399320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alifeasvivid/pseuds/alifeasvivid
Summary: Arthur’s roommate, Gilbert, is fed up with the stick which is constantly up Arthur’s ass. He drags him to the gym where he works out and tells Arthur to take a yoga class (of course, this came only after he tried to get Arthur to find… other methods of tension relief). Unfortunately for Arthur, the only class going on at that time is a “hot yoga” class. Unfortunately for Arthur, the instructor of that class is Alfred F. Jones.





	A Good Workout

**Author's Note:**

> Another tumblr import. No warnings really, but it just borders on a bit lewd, it’s very much that… immediate physical attraction type of thing I’m told people experience ;)

Arthur Kirkland glumly trails after his roommate, Gilbert Bielschmidt into the fitness center where Gilbert normally works out. As it is Arthur’s day off, he would rather be almost anywhere else, but Gil had made it clear that Arthur didn’t have a choice.

Arthur, according to Gilbert, had been so tense over the past few weeks that he had become impossible to live with. Arthur supposes Gil is right. Between a bad break up about six months ago, several recent dates that had gone nowhere, and stress at work, Arthur is starting to feel a bit like an overstrung guitar string.

Gilbert’s first suggestion had been that Arthur just get laid because “clearly wanking off is not doing it anymore. Ludwig got himself that little Italian cutie. We could find you some new ‘tall, dark, and Mediterranean’ too” which was just generally crude and also a bad reference to that bad break up that had gotten Gil punched.

After that Gilbert suggested that Arthur try some other kind of physical exercise, like “yoga or some shit.” Arthur had refused that too until Gilbert had threatened to start bringing hook-ups of his own to the apartment.

So they change in the locker room and Arthur dutifully follows Gilbert out to the main floor, where he is directed toward the classrooms.

“It’s almost two. They usually have some kind of yoga or pilates class going on now,” Gilbert says, already turning in the direction of weight machines. “Just come find me when you’re done. And for the love of fuck, try to relax.”

Arthur raises one of his very impressive eyebrows.

“Hey! I suggested anonymous sex or a massage, you’re the fussy bastard who doesn’t like being touched by strangers.”

“I hardly think that is what qualifies me as ‘fussy,’” Arthur fires back, but Gilbert has already walked away.

Arthur heads down the hallway to where one of the classroom doors is cracked open. The sign next to it reads “Hot Yoga” in large letters, while “Jones, A.,” which is likely the instructor’s name, is printed in smaller letters beneath it. Arthur stares dumbly at it, as if trying to remember how letters work when they’re printed on lime green printer paper. He wonders if there might be some way to get out of this, but if he tries to leave, he’s sure to catch hell from Gilbert… and he knows the silver-haired man is more than capable of following through on his threat.

As he stands there dazedly other people start gathering around the door. Their idle chatter reaches his ears as white noise and nothing else.

It’s only when the door opens and a bright, loud voice chimes out, “Okay, cool! Good crowd today, everyone come on in and find a place!”

The chipper volume at which the words are spoken pulls Arthur from his reverie, which he soon finds to be well worth it because the man, apparently the instructor, is probably the single most beautiful human Arthur has ever seen. He appears to be slightly younger than Arthur with a wide, exuberant grin reaching all the way up to enthusiastic blue eyes. His hair is gold and his skin is fair, but not pale like Arthur’s or Gil’s. He wears a loose, light grey t-shirt that hits him just low enough to be disappointingly modest because his navy blue shorts are tight spandex.

All the students file in past him and he writes down their names without asking any of them, so they must all be regulars for his class.

Suddenly feeling as if this little endeavor might be worth it, Arthur waits his turn to enter.

The man smiles so warmly at him that Arthur definitely kind of melts a little. Is that why it’s called “hot yoga?” Seems odd. “Hey-hey! New guy!” But dear god, the man is cheery. Arthur would find it offensive if the man weren’t so very easy on the eyes. “What’s your name?”

“Arthur,” he responds, flashing a bit of a charming grin of his own.

“British dude! Awesome! My name’s Alfred. The class is about an hour long, so not too bad, but I tend to crank the heat and it can be a little bit intense, so if you’ve got any health conditions, the center would really appreciate it if you let me know now.”

Do arrhythmia and inexplicably weak knees count? Arthur thinks and kind of wants to say it in a cheeky way because Alfred seems like the sort of person who would giggle and blush cutely at something like that, but Arthur is too caught up by the “intense” part because… oh right, this is an actual exercise class. Arthur is by no means completely out of shape, but an hour long yoga class might be a little much.

And yet…

“No,” he answers, “I’m alright.”

“So you’ve done bikram yoga before?” Alfred asks in a way that sounds skeptical.

“Um… yes?” Arthur answers, then coughs. Of course, it could have been an easy out. He could have told Gilbert that the only class they had was too advanced and that he’d have to come back another day and then he could convince Gil to forget about it entirely by buying him several rounds at the pub on Friday. But now he’s too distracted by Alfred’s beauty to think of sensible things like that. “Yes. I have. It’s been awhile though.” _It’s been awhile for something, _Arthur thinks wryly.

Alfred flashes him another smile. “Gotcha. Probably explains why you forgot your mat then. Don’t worry, I’ve got a few for students to borrow, but since it’s been awhile, you should probably hang out up front near me. It’s pretty easy to forget how strenuous it is, so I better keep my eye on you,” and then Alfred winks and Arthur thinks his brain might’ve melted into his stomach.

Arthur follows him into the classroom and lays out the mat Alfred hands him near the front of the room. He probably could have been fine, probably could have maintained a gentlemanly facade of disinterestedness, but after Alfred greets the class in the same loud, boisterous tone as before, he removes his t-shirt in such a casual way that Arthur suddenly feels like a pervert for ogling his just absolutely perfect body when it seems as though everyone else in the class is really only there for a good workout.

There’s nothing disappointingly modest about Alfred now; he’s all lean muscle and broad shoulders and strong thighs and everything else Arthur would dearly like to fuck into a mattress… or be fucked into a mattress by… or any other available surface… like a yoga mat.

Yet still, Arthur might have survived if Alfred hadn’t then completely dropped his excited voice in favor of a soft, encouraging murmur that Arthur supposes is soothing to the other students, but does nothing to lower the tension in his own body.

It’s actually quite the reverse.

The effect isn’t helped by Arthur having to watch Alfred very closely in order to keep up with the class. It isn’t helped either by the way Alfred makes cute puns every now and then about the names of the poses, but still in that low, sultry tone. Occasionally, he’ll meet Arthur’s eyes and smile.

Yet even then, Arthur might have made it out alive with his dignity fully in tact, if not for the fact that once the class falls into a rhythm, Alfred pads softly about the room correcting the students’ stances… and as Arthur has never done yoga before in his entire life, particularly not in a room which is fast becoming akin to a sweat lodge, he needs a lot of correction.

So much for disliking being touched by strangers.

Alfred’s hands are so gentle and Arthur is very certain he means each slight touch as nothing more than instruction, but the glancing nature of each moment of contact combined with their frequency and Alfred’s mellow, tranquil voice saying Arthur’s name and giving him encouragement leave Arthur a tense, quivering, sweat-drenched, embarrassingly-aroused mess by the time the class finishes. Thank God he hadn’t decided to wear spandex himself.

“So what did you think?” Alfred asks him brightly after shrugging his t-shirt back on (damn). “I hope it wasn’t too different from what you’ve done before.”

“Ah… um… it was—”

“Hey, Alfred,” another student taps him on the shoulder to get his attention. The moment Alfred turns toward her, Arthur dashes for the door, intent on finding Gilbert…

…and murdering him.

Arthur finds Gilbert easily by the weight machines.

“Oh, hey Artie!” Gilbert grins, setting down the free weights he’d been using. He glances at the clock. “See? That wasn’t so bad! Barely even an hour. How do you feel?”

Arthur grins back, but it’s actually more of a baring of his teeth. “I _feel_ like you are going to need to sleep with one eye open for a very long time, Bielschmidt.”

“What?” Gilbert asks, genuinely confused. “Why? It can’t have been that bad.”

“I think I would have rather had anonymous sex. Bloody hell, that was the most frustra—”

“Hey! Arthur! There you are!” Alfred comes bounding up to them. “You took off before I could get your opinion on—” he glances between Arthur and Gilbert and clearly comes to a definite conclusion. “Your, uh, opinion on the class.”

Arthur’s eyes shift briefly to Gilbert, watching realization dawn on him in the space of half a second. Arthur glares fiercely at him in the vain hope of keep him quiet. “It was fine. Thank you. A very good class.”

“I’m glad. It’s common for beginners,” Alfred says because he clearly knows now that Arthur has never done yoga before, “to feel kinda tense after a class, but once you get the hang of it, it loosens you up pretty good. We’ve got regular classes here, if you’re interested. You seemed more tense than most people do though, so if it’ll make you more comfortable, you’re more than welcome to bring your boyfriend,” he says with a bit too much “customer service” politeness.

“My what?” Arthur asks.

Gilbert collapses into raucous laughter until Arthur kicks him in the shin.

“If you’re referring to this useless git,” Arthur says in words, while his tone tells Gilbert to make himself very scarce. Gilbert shuffles quickly away and Arthur continues, “he’s not my boyfriend.”

Alfred’s lovely face lights up tremendously at that, but his tone drops to the same one he used in class as he leans in closer to Arthur, “Well, in that case, I’d love to do some private sessions with you. I know several… positions we could work on to help you _relax_.”

**Author's Note:**

> >.> no there is no continuation, I just wanted Alfred to be cheeky.


End file.
